Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life.
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